


One, Two, Three, Four, I Declare a Knife War

by Cinaed



Series: The Best of Carolina The Teenage Witch [16]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sabrina the Teenage Witch Fusion, Gen, Magic, Minor Violence, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 06:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19057282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinaed/pseuds/Cinaed
Summary: Frustrated, Carolina decides to mess with Felix. Things escalate pretty quickly.





	One, Two, Three, Four, I Declare a Knife War

**Author's Note:**

> Back from vacation, so, uh, have another 10,000 word episode that I wrote in like three days. Can we tell we've gotten into the plot-heavy stuff for season two? 
> 
> Thanks as always to Aryashi for looking this over and making suggestions and corrections, and to creatrix for putting up with me constantly spamming her with my fic.

Carolina holds the knife up and examines it. It’s as solid as always. She wonders if it’s based off a knife Felix owned, or if he just thought of a knife and that’s the one the spell created. She tightens her grip instinctively, anger boiling up.

She glances towards her spellbook. It’s acquired another inch of dust, and she’s pretty sure there’s a cobweb beginning to form as well. “If you’re done being dramatic, I want to try a spell.” 

For a second the book doesn’t react. Then it gives a tentative twitch, some of the dust motes catching the light. Somehow without having a face, the spellbook gives off an air of disbelief. It’s warranted. Carolina can’t remember the last time she willingly opened it. Before the summer, probably. Even when they were investigating a loophole to reach out to her mom, Carolina had relied on Church’s spellbook.

Carolina waves the knife in the book’s direction. “I’m serious. There are some scrying spells, right?” She could say more, but the spellbook spins into the air, blowing the dust directly in her face. She coughs, her eyes watering, and wipes at her mouth too late not to taste the dust. It’s gross. “I could use Church’s spellbook,” she threatens when she can breathe again.

Her vision clears in time to watch the excited disbelief shift to smugness. The book clearly knows as well as she does that she won’t use Church’s, because then he’ll ask what she has planned.

Carolina frowns at the book for another second before she gives in. “So, scrying spells with a focus.”

The book does another little spin before it opens and flips through pages. It stops and drops onto the bed, open to a scrying spell. When she reads it, her stomach jolts, because the spell involves a mirror. Unbidden, she remembers Locus crushing the mirror beneath his foot. “Maybe not that one,” she mutters. When she tries to turn the page, though, the book refuses to budge. “That can’t be the only scrying spell in you--”

It might not be the only one in the spellbook, but it’s clearly the only one that the book considers acceptable for Carolina to try. No matter how much she tries, she can’t turn to the next page. “Fine,” she says at last. “I bet Grey has some mugwort. And the thrift store probably has some mirrors.”

The spellbook gives a self-satisfied rustle.

 

* * *

 

The smell of mugwort lingers in Carolina’s nose. She fights against a sneeze as she carefully props the mirror against a pillow. She steps back, picking up the knife with both hands. “Okay,” she says. She can feel the growing tension in her shoulders, her stomach tight with nerves.

The spellbook gives an encouraging shimmy.

She places the tip of the knife where the mirror meets its frame. Her hands tremble. The blade skids off the mirror, catching on one of the stupid seashells decorating the frame, because the only mirror in her price range had been some cheesy souvenir one from somebody's trip to North Carolina. There’s a scraping sound that makes her wince and quickly lift the knife away. Thankfully the only damage is to the now chipped shell, not the mirror’s surface. That should be fine.

Carolina takes a deep breath. She concentrates on Felix, on his stupid face and his stupid smirk and the anger she feels every time she thinks about him. This time when she presses the knife to the mirror edge and begins to make a slow circle, there’s no sound except her own breathing. “Show me Felix and Locus,” she commands. The knife traces continual slow circles on the mirror edge as she repeats herself a second time, and then a third.

She’s about to repeat the order a fourth time when the mirror’s surface glows a faint blue. For a second the mirror clouds over and she can’t see anything. Instead she hears a familiar voice say, “I don’t see what you’re all mad about.” The blue sheen disappears in time for Carolina to watch Felix frown in Locus’s direction.

The mirror is too small for her to get a good visual of where they are, though she thinks there might be a bed behind them, like they’re in a hotel room. She can mostly just see their faces. She watches Locus frown.

“Mars was needlessly reckless.”

Carolina’s startled by his deep voice, so surprised by that and the fact that the spell actually worked that she almost misses Felix’s laughing protest.

“It was _fun_! Come on, just because we’re on the run from the Council doesn’t mean we can’t take some... _liberties_ with orders! Why not treat ourselves to a little vacation?” 

Locus’s eyes narrow further. “Skiing is not taking liberties. It was--”

“You’re a total buzzkill, you know that? A black hole of entertainment.”

“And if you don’t focus, we’ll end up on Pluto again,” Locus says. The only sign he’s heard the insults is a slight tightening of his jaw. “We should look at our next step.”

“Yeah, yeah. Next step. Are we sure we can’t skip a few? Just think about Drel’s face when we--”

The insults are made lightly, with a smirk and an eye roll. Felix’s voice changes when he mentions Drel, turns sharp and vicious, enough that Carolina flinches.

The spell ends between one blink and the next. She starts to repeat the spell, and then hesitates as a headache radiates down her neck. For a seemingly simple magic, the spell takes a lot out of her. She rubs at her eyes, torn between irritation that she hadn't heard more and satisfaction that the knife is a focus. Now she just has to figure out what to do next.

When the headache subsides, she glances at the spellbook, who’s radiating smugness again. She sets the knife down on the bed. “Okay, so you were right. What kind of spells can we use on him?”

The spellbook just floats in the air. It’s weird how it can radiate confusion without a face. She grimaces. “Right. Probably should figure that out myself first.” She steps forward and takes the spellbook in her hands. It quivers in her hands, a tremor of excitement, and opens easily.

She sits down on the bed, avoiding the mirror and the knife. She goes to the table of contents. It’s a long, weird list, just as weird as she remembers when she was figuring out her failed protection spell for Church. “I want to make him pay,” she says, not realizing she’d spoken aloud again until the spellbook shivers and expands in her lap, growing heavier. She blinks. Not that she’s finished looking at the table of contents, but she’s ninety-nine percent certain that there are some new options. At least revenge spells doesn’t sound familiar.

Carolina flips to the first spell, and grimaces at the illustration. She’s pretty sure that Grey and Kimball said Felix warded himself against stuff that...violent. She hates Felix, but the idea of using this kind of spell against anyone makes her queasy. She hastily flips back to the table of contents. Felix has probably warded himself against violent spells or tracking spells, but maybe he’s forgotten about smaller spells. Her eyes catch on the list beneath revenge.

_Minor revenge spells._

That sounds much more doable. She shuffles through the pages again. This time the first spell suggestion makes Carolina choke down a surprised laugh. “Okay, that one’s _perfect_.”

 

* * *

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Felix says with a dismissive curl of his lips. “Next step. Are we sure we can’t skip a few? Just think about Drel’s face when we kill him.” He says the last part with a viciousness that isn’t surprising anymore.

“We stick to the plan,” Locus says. He’s heard all of Felix’s ideas for the Council. They were as inescapable as their prison cell on Pluto had seemed. When Felix looks ready to argue and try to coax Locus into something reckless, Locus adds, “You know what Control wants from us. The last time we deviated too far from his orders, we ended up in prison.”

Felix groans and flops onto the bed at the reminder. He conjures a knife and throws it up at the ceiling. It embeds itself alongside the other six. “Seriously, a black hole of entertainment,” he grumbles, which is his roundabout way of admitting Locus is right. “Fine. What’s the next step?”

“Keep out of sight.” Felix sighs. Locus ignores him. “The longer we do, the more the public will wonder where we’ll show up next. It will undermine the Council--”

“I didn’t mean repeat the whole plan,” Felix grumbles. “I remember most of it. Just forgot the boring parts.” He frowns at the ceiling. “So, what, we’re gonna sit around in some hotel and watch mortal TV for a few days?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Ugh. Prison was almost less boring.” Felix is silent for a moment.

Locus waits. Felix is never quiet for long.

After a minute, Felix sits up. He scratches at his jaw. “There’s gotta be a way to keep out of sight and still have fun. I mean, we’re in this stupid little town because there’s no witches living here.” He smirks. “Hey, maybe the clerk will have a few ideas on what we can do.”

Locus frowns. “We’ve already used too many spells on him to make him forget we haven’t paid for the room.” He recognizes the dangerous gleam in Felix’s eyes. He thinks over possibilities. “There’s a small theater. We could try a talkie.”

“A talkie?” Felix barks out a laugh. He plucks at his shirt, scratching at his exposed throat. “If we’re gonna blend in with these mortals, you need to talk like you’re not three hundred. Mortals just call them movies now.”

“Right,” Locus says, but he’s distracted watching Felix scratch at his arms. When Felix’s nails start leaving marks, faint raised lines on his skin, Locus raises his eyebrows. “What are you doing?”

Felix scowls. “What do you mean, what am I--” He stops and blinks down at himself, as though he’s only just realized he’s scratching his arms almost bloody. He jumps off the bed. He stops scratching for a second, and then starts again, squirming. “If this place has bed bugs, I’m gonna burn it down.”

Locus glances at the bed. “We’ve been staying here for three days. If there were bed bugs, we would’ve noticed before now.”

“I can feel them on me,” Felix hisses. He holds his hands up, but when Locus looks, he can’t see anything except the marks left behind by Felix’s scratching. Felix snarls in frustration, throwing himself against the nearest wall and wiggling like he’s trying to scratch his back against the bumpy paint.

It would be funny, if not for the sheer rage in Felix’s eyes that promises misery for someone in his vicinity. Locus clears his throat and summons the spellbook that Control passed along to them. It’s simple enough to pull up a spell that will banish any bugs from the room. He recites it and waits.

“Didn’t work,” Felix says flatly. He’s actually scratched himself raw. Blood beads a shallow cut on his cheek. His eyes promise murder now.

Locus frowns. He recites a diagnostic spell. The magic swirls around Felix and gives Locus an answer that creates only more questions. Alarm tightens his chest. He ignores Felix’s snarled, “What?” as he hastily does another spell, this one checking their wards.

“ _What_?” Felix snaps again, his voice rising.

Locus checks the wards one more time. Then he looks at Felix, who’s still scratching. “Felix.” The name squeezes through his clenched teeth. “We burned all of our belongings, didn’t we?”

Felix squints at him, scratching another bloody line on his arm. “Uh, yeah.”

“So how was someone able to slip through our wards and cast an itching spell on you?”

Felix stops scratching for a brief moment, seemingly out of surprise. Then he resumes scratching, even harder than before, hissing out an incredulous, “ _An itching spell_? I don’t know! I burned all my stuff! You were there!”

“Well, someone has a focus that can get through our wards,” Locus says. Someone as reckless as Felix, because the diagnostic says that the spell is unsealed.

Felix snarls. He starts to scratch at his face again and then slams his fists against the wall. “Okay, that’s bad! But I can’t help figure out who we’re gonna kill when I’m clawing my face off, so _do something about it_.”

Locus extends a hand and focuses. It’s a rudimentary spell, something witch children do as a prank. It’s simple enough to remove. As Felix groans in relief, Locus prowls around the room. “We should move. If someone can cast a spell on you, they might be able to track you--”

“I hope they come here,” Felix says. “I’m going to take them apart, piece by piece--”

Locus considers their options as Felix rants. When Felix pauses for breath, he says, “Make yourself new clothes. We’re not taking anything with us.” He summons a new outfit, changing into something nondescript.

“I want to--”

Locus’s patience, already stretched thin, snaps. He takes one step towards Felix, who snaps his mouth shut and blinks at him as he says, “We don’t know who did the spell. The Council could be on its way.”

“Okay! Fine!” The scratch on Felix’s face has already scabbed over, but it reopens as he scowls and magics himself new clothes. He fidgets with a pair of sunglasses as he mutters, “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere else. Somewhere quieter.”

 

* * *

 

Carolina flips through her spellbook. She doesn’t know if she can use more than one spell on Felix at a time, but she wants to try. She’s spoiled for choices in the minor revenge section. There’s over a dozen annoying spells that will wipe the smirk off Felix’s face. She settles on one, smiling to herself as she imagines one of his speeches interrupted every third word. She pulls a feather from her pillow. It’s goose, but the spell doesn’t specify it has to be a chicken feather. She holds it up, her other hand on the knife, and then pauses. She has a feeling she’s forgetting something important.

Carolina glances down at the knife. Then she sighs. “I didn’t seal the spell, did I?” There’s no one around except the spellbook, which has gone silent and is acting more like an actual book the longer she uses it, so she answers her own question. “I definitely forgot.” This time, when she concentrates, she remembers what Grey taught her. She thinks of the spell, but she imagines an invisible lock that snaps shut at the spell’s completion, a lock with a combination only she knows. The extra push of magic makes her head pound from the effort, but she feels the seal click into place.

She grins, starting to flip to the next spell she was considering, and then yawns. Exhaustion washes over her like she’s performed the speed spell a couple times in one hour. She sinks down onto the bed, rubbing at her eyes and clinging sleepily to her satisfaction. Another yawn escapes her. Carolina sets the knife and the book aside. She’ll rest, she decides. Take a long nap, recharge, and then cast the next spell.

She falls asleep wondering what color she should turn his hair, purple or green.

 

* * *

 

“There’s no way it was the Council,” Felix says, pacing around their new hotel room. There’s still murder in his eyes. He keeps touching his cheek where he scratched it and snarling to himself. “Control would’ve warned us. We should’ve stayed. I could’ve wrung his _cluck_ neck and--” He coughs, his hands going to his throat as Locus squints at him. “ _Cluck_ just clucked  _cluck_ _\--_ what the _cluck_?!”

This time when Locus performs the diagnostic spell, he half-expects the answer. It’s still a child’s spell, except this time the witch remembered to seal it. This time it isn’t so much alarm as genuine confusion that fills him. He stares at Felix, who’s holding his neck like that will stop him from clucking every third word. “Felix. Why is someone putting children’s curses on you?”

“How should _cluck_ know? Not like _cluck_ pissed off _cluck_ kid or--” Felix stops. He blanches. “ _Cluck_ ,” he says, with feeling. “That little--” He stops again with a grimace. Another flush creeps into his face. He avoids Locus’s eyes.

Locus stares harder. “What did you do?”

“Break the _cluck_ first. I’m _cluck_ explaining like _cluck_.”

Locus crosses his arms. He’s tempted to make Felix explain himself, but the clucking grates on his ears. It’d be punishing himself as well as Felix. He says, “It’s a sealed spell.”

Felix snarls. “If it’s _cluck_ I think, _cluck_ , we can _cluck_ break it!”

Together, they break the spell. The seal is there but weak, and Locus’s curiosity grows along with his irritation. Who is this witch intent on tormenting Felix?

Felix rubs at his throat when the spell is gone. He’s back to avoiding Locus’s eyes. “That little witch,” he mumbles, turning the last word into a profanity. “I didn’t think she had it in her.”

“Felix. What. Did. You. Do.”

“What baby half-mortal even knows about focuses and scrying spells?” Felix complains, and then grimaces when Locus growls. He holds up his hands defensively. “Look. I just-- I was tying up loose ends! Making sure she wouldn’t run to the Council.”

Understanding dawns. Locus remembers the teen witches, their pale, shocked faces as he and Felix emerged from the mirror. “You went back to Westbridge. But that doesn’t explain why she can find you when no one else can. How does she have a focus?”

“Uh.”

“ _Felix_.”

“I figured, let’s not totally burn a bridge there! Let the kid know what’s up, tell her to keep her head down, _for her own sake_ , and then gave her a little...souvenir!”

Locus thinks about strangling him. His imagination is so vivid that he’s almost surprised when he blinks and realizes that his hands are fisted at his sides and not wrapped around Felix’s neck. He takes a deep breath. “A souvenir. A focus. You need to get it back.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “She’s using spells a five-year-old witch knows, and can barely seal her spells. I’m not being beaten by stupid teenager.” A sudden smile lights his face, sharp and dangerous. “Especially when it gives _me_ a link to _her_. I think she needs a little reminder to keep her head down….”

 

* * *

 

Carolina wakes to sunlight on her face. She blinks her eyes open in confusion, realizing that she slept through the night instead of having a short nap. Her hand brushes the handle, the knife somehow under her pillow, as she starts to sit up. Her stomach pinches at her, reminding her that she also slept through dinner. She’s untangling herself from the sheets when there’s the sudden smell of smoke and the feeling of heat against her skin. A burning strand of hair falls in front of her eyes, almost scorching her nose.

She yelps, swatting at it wildly, and falls out of bed.

“Stop, stop, stop,” she says even as Grey calls from the hallway, sounding concerned, “Carolina? Are you all right?” As quickly as Carolina’s hair is alight, the fire is gone. The only evidence it even happened and wasn’t part of some strange dream is the lingering smell and the sight of the burned hair. “I’m fine!” Carolina calls hastily. She tucks the scorched strand behind her ear as Grey says, “Are you sure? You slept through dinner. I know there’s a case of finger flu going around in the Other Realm, so--”

“I was just tired,” Carolina says, half-lying. “I’ll be down for breakfast in a minute.” She listens in relief as Grey walks away. Then she tugs at the strand and stares at it, rubbing her fingers over the scorched edge. She knows exactly who did this. She’s torn between irritation and satisfaction that she annoyed Felix enough to retaliate. She wonders how annoyed he’ll be when she turns his hair green. But that will have to wait until she’s done something about her own hair and eaten breakfast. She squints at the burned hair and then tries to cobble together a quick spell.

“I don’t want to give anyone a scare, so make everyone see normal, unburnt hair.”

When she gets down to breakfast, Grey gives her a long look. Carolina pretends not to notice, reaching for a plate and piling food onto it as Grey asks, “Are you sure you’re all right? You usually don’t skip dinner.”

“I’m fine,” Carolina says. Now that she’s in front of food, she’s even hungrier, starving like she’s skipping three meals instead of just one. She forces herself to eat slowly, aware that Church is giving her a look too. She pretends not to notice that one either, at least until he sniffs at the air and she realizes she forgot to magic away the smell.

She eats a little faster. As soon as she’s done, she gulps down a glass of orange juice and stands up. “Mr. Donut gave us summer reading. I should probably work on that.”

“I thought you were helping Wash out today,” Church says. When she blinks at him, he blinks back, his look turning even more suspicious. “Niner’s camp ends tomorrow, right? Didn’t you say you’d help him set up her welcome back party?”

Carolina’s completely forgotten about it. Now she remembers Wash asking for her help, explaining that usually they don’t make a big deal, but that Niner’s going to be mad about missing out on the Pets at the Beach Day and especially the whole Simmons and his cat thing. “Oh. Right. I’ll go...head over then.”

She magics herself into a fresh change of clothes from her wardrobe and leaves. The last thing she hears is Church, sounding confused.

“Does anyone else smell burning?”

 

* * *

 

When Carolina gets back from Wash’s that night, Church is waiting for her, his arms folded. “What are you doing?” he asks.

She freezes guiltily halfway up the stairs, flustered by the suspicious note in his voice. She resists the urge to glance around and make sure Kimball and Grey aren’t within earshot. He wouldn’t be asking if they were. She blinks at him, faking innocence. “I was helping Wash buy the party supplies. Now I’m going to my room.”

Church rolls his eyes. “Uh huh. Come on, Carolina. I know your ‘This is Totally Fine’ face. You were hiding something at breakfast and you’re hiding something now. What’s up?”

Carolina imagines his reaction to her playing pranks on Felix and the whole hair burning thing. She inwardly winces. She’s pretty sure his shriek would shatter every mirror in the house, and then she’d need to hunt down another one to scry with. “Nothing,” she lies. She ignores his snort, slipping past him and escaping into her room. She frowns at the door. It’s probably not a good idea to try another spell with Church so suspicious, even if her fingers itch to turn Felix’s hair green. She’ll wait. Kimball and Grey both work tomorrow, and Church never wakes up before ten unless someone is making breakfast.

The next morning, she reads over the hair color spell one last time. All she needs is a lock of her own hair and something that matches the color she wants to turn Felix’s hair. She cuts off the burned strand and then mixes it with a fistful of bright green grass from the yard.

Before she does the spell, though, she hesitates. She sealed her last spell. Was it still working? Can she actually throw multiple spells at Felix at once? She flips through the spellbook but doesn’t immediately see an answer. She debates with herself for another minute, and then pulls out the mirror. “Show me Felix and Locus,” she orders again.

“--told you,” Felix says smugly. Carolina stares at him, but he’s not scratching, and there’s not a hint of a cluck in his voice as he leans back in his chair and says, “She just needed a reminder. The little witch will behave.”

Locus looks skeptical, but Carolina drops the spell before he responds. She’s not going to wear herself out when she clearly needs to do the hair spell. She fights against her disappointment that her spells didn’t last. Weren’t sealed spells supposed to be hard to break? Felix’s smug tone makes her angrier. Determination fills her.

“Felix needs to make a change, time to make his hair look strange,” she says. She grips the knife and concentrates, repeating the spell as she stirs the hair and grass together, furiously imagining Felix’s hair turning a bright, terrible shade of green. This time for her seal, she pictures a bigger lock than before, something with a long string of complicated codes to break, pouring all her anger into snapping this lock permanently shut.

The grass and hair disappear in a sizzling puff of blue smoke.

“There!” Carolina says, breathing a little hard. She bares her teeth as the smoke dissipates. “How’s _that_ for behaving?”

 

* * *

 

Locus raises his eyebrows, taking a slow sip of his coffee as Felix’s hair begins to brighten, the strands pulsing with a multitude of colors before settling into a bright, intensely green shade. He’s annoyed by the girl’s persistence, and slightly more annoyed that he’s going to have to deal with Felix’s inevitable temper-tantrum.

“What?” Felix asks, squinting at him. “What’s with the face?”

Locus silently summons a mirror. He holds it up so Felix can see himself, and waits patiently through Felix’s snarl of rage to deadpan, “I think you’re underestimating her. Can we take back the knife now?”

“ _No_ ,” Felix hisses. “That little--” He points a finger towards his hair, and snarls again when the green doesn’t fade. “Let me guess, she sealed her spell again. Come on, help me.”

Even with Locus’s assistance, the seal proves stronger than the last one. The girl’s learning, or just angry and determined enough that the spell wants to linger. They banish most of the green from Felix’s hair, but a faint hint remains, so that Felix ends up looking like he has a terrible dye job.

Felix is grinding his teeth by the time he admits that’s the best they can do. He glares at himself in the mirror, seething over the stubborn green tinge. He’s too angry to say anything else, just points his finger, snarls, and then smiles viciously in satisfaction over whatever magic he just cast.

Locus frowns. “What did you do?”

Felix smirks. “Let’s just say she needs to watch her step.”

Locus eyes him. He calculates the odds of the girl’s accidental death. He debates reminding Felix that this isn’t the mission, but he knows it will just make Felix angrier. His frown deepens. He says, keeping his voice even, “Killing her will just attract unwanted attention.”

“Oh, she won’t _die_ ,” Felix says. He laughs, a sharp, dangerous sound. “Well, unless she’s really clumsy.”

Locus sighs.

 

* * *

 

Carolina waits, but Felix doesn’t retaliate, at least in any way she can tell. Then again, maybe he’s just waiting for her to lower her guard, like with burning her hair. After a few minutes, she pulls the spellbook into her lap and goes back to looking at other spells, just in case.

She’s smiling over one that reminds her of the end of school pranks when the smell of pizza drifts through the vents to her nose. She sniffs and glances at the clock, startled to discover it's lunch time. She goes to her door and opens it, yelling down the stairs, “Were you going to share, or do I have to make my own pizza?”

There’s a pause, and then Church calls back, “Totally sharing!” in a tone that means he’d hoped to eat the entire pizza himself.

Carolina rolls her eyes, smiling. She gets about halfway down the stairs when her foot hits a step and sinks through it. Her arms windmill for a second, and she’s halfway to her knees, the steps rising up to meet her, before she grabs onto the banister. Her breath escapes her in a belated gasp. She blinks down, staring in confused alarm. The step is still there. When she touches it, her fingers feel the solid wood. That doesn't explain how her leg has gone through it like it’s an illusion.

She hauls herself carefully upright. Her other knee hurts where it hit a stair, and her hips ache from the weird twisting contortions as she’d struggled not to fall face-first down the stairs. When she places her foot carefully on the next step, the step stays firm under her weight. Her heart pounds unsteadily in her ears even as shock gives way to anger.

Carolina hisses Felix’s name through her teeth.

She forgets about the pizza. She goes back upstairs, clutching the banister and testing out each step as she storms up to her room. Her foot starts to slip through two more steps, but there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason.

She grabs the book, hard enough that it gives a slight flutter of surprise. “Sorry,” she says instinctively, and then flips to the spell that had made her smile just a moment earlier. She’s not smiling now. She thinks about Felix and his knives, the way he played with her stolen pencil, how fast he was throwing that knife at Church. Maybe he should be more careful. Maybe she needs to take his hands out of the equation for a minute.

This spell doesn’t need any ingredients at all, just willpower and a good imagination. And Carolina can picture Felix’s hands perfectly. She closes her eyes, breathing hard, and wills the spell with every fiber of her being.

 

* * *

 

Locus is re-establishing the wards that hide and protect them from the Council and wondering if there’s a way to ward against the teenage witch if Felix keeps insisting that he has her handled when Felix starts screaming.

Locus’s first thought is the Council has found them. Alarm chokes him. His second thought is that he’s not going back to Pluto, no matter what. He turns, his hands up, ready to fling a curse, and then freezes in place when he realizes that there’s no one else in the room, just Felix, who’s still screaming and who--

Locus’s third thought isn’t a thought at all, just a sheer moment of confusion as he stares.

Felix’s hands have transformed into baby hands, so small that Locus can barely make out miniature, delicate nails on each finger. That’s the only glimpse Locus gets, because in the next second protective mittens appear on Felix’s hands. The mittens are bright pink. There are tiny, even more pink bows. Combined, it somehow brings out the greenish hint to Felix’s hair. Felix howls with rage.

Locus laughs. He’s startled by the sound, the genuine amusement half-unfamiliar to his own ears. When’s the last time he laughed? Back when he and Felix were making their plans, confident that they were doing the right thing and that they could make a difference? He searches his memory, but he can’t remember.

Felix shoots him a betrayed look.

Locus isn’t particularly sympathetic. If Felix had listened to him, none of this would have happened. Still, he needs a partner who can do magic if they’re going to succeed in their mission, and he feels like his point has been made.

It takes him a few attempts to break the spell. He suspects that the girl wants the spell to work more than he wants to end it, especially since a laugh threatens every time he looks too long at the tiny bows. When he finally succeeds, Felix clenches and unclenches his hands, still wordless with rage as he stares down at them.

Locus crosses his arms against his chest. “ _Now_ can we take the knife back?”

Felix looks up.

Locus’s amusement vanishes at Felix’s expression. The last time he saw Felix this angry was at the trial, when he’d raged and promised to take every Council member apart, piece by piece, and make their deaths slow. Unease grips him. “Felix--”

“Take the knife back? Oh, no. I have _plans_ for that knife,” Felix snarls. He gestures, a sharp and sudden movement, like thrusting a blade into someone’s chest.

Locus moves a second too late, grabbing his wrist and saying, “If you kill her--”

“ _If_?” Felix says, and laughs.

 

* * *

 

Carolina flips between two pages of the spellbook, frowning thoughtfully to herself. She should do a follow-up spell, something that will make Felix struggle with his baby hands, just to _really_ frustrate him, but she can’t decide if she should repeat the itching spell or try something new. She’s halfway settled on the itching spell again when there’s movement from the corner of her eye. She lifts her head just in time to see the knife quiver and rise off her bed.

She has a second to think that’s probably not a good thing, when the knife darts at her.

Only her jerking backwards and falling off the bed as she screams saves her. The knife whistles over her head, close enough that she can feel the air against her nose, and then jerks to a stop, spinning in place as though trying to figure out where she went. She lands on her back, hard enough that the breath’s mostly knocked out of her. Staring at the knife, she scrambles for the door, keeping low to the ground like maybe the knife won’t notice her. “Crap, crap, crap,” she gasps, and slams the door shut behind her as the knife lunges again.

For a second she thinks she's safe. Then there’s a dull thud, and then another one, louder. A third hard thud, and this time part of the door splinters. She can see the glint of the blade through the small crack. It pries at the hole, trying to make it bigger. "Stop," she says. "Stop, stop, _STOP_ \--" But this isn't like the other time, when she could stop the fire with a hasty passion spell. The knife ignores her, continuing to work away at the widening crack.

"Uh," Church says behind her. There's a half-eaten pizza slice in his hand. "What--"

"So I lied. I was hiding something," Carolina says quickly, flinching as the knife slams against the door again. "And now I think Felix is gonna actually--" She takes a step back, closer to Church, wondering if they should just run. Maybe if they use the speed spell-- The crack grows, enough that the tip of the blade pokes through. She swallows. "Kill me..."

Church stares. “ _Felix_? Why does _Felix_ want to--”

They both yelp as the knife tries to break through the crack and sprays another shower of splintered wood. The hole’s almost large enough for the knife to get through.

“Uh, questions later,” Church says hastily, dropping the pizza and grabbing her arm instead. They run.

A few seconds later there’s a resounding crack, and the sound of the knife whistling through the air. Carolina ducks instinctively, and Church yells and ducks with her as the knife buries itself in the wall instead of her neck.

They waver at the bottom of the stairs, Carolina looking for a weapon, Church looking towards the door, and then the knife is there again. Carolina grabs a couch cushion, holding it up as a shield. The knife stabs at it. There’s an explosion of feathers, but Carolina’s already diving behind the couch as the knife yanks itself free.

“Leave her alone!” Church shouts frantically, and then, even more frantically, everything coming out in a loud rush, his voice cracking on the final word, “Uh, something something like a fox, put the knife into a box!”

There’s a sudden clanging sound. When Carolina peeks over the couch, braced to run, she finds Church with his hand up, pointing at a floating metal box that clangs and gains another dent as she stares. The metal box glows with a pulsing blue light that flickers every time the metal box shakes.

“So, uh, that’ll work for a couple minutes,” Church says, his voice strained.

“Um, good,” Carolina says. She stares up at the shaking box, unable to take her eyes off it. She doesn’t really want to see Church’s expression anyway. She licks her lips. “So, um. Remember how Kimball and Grey said no one could find Felix and Locus because they destroyed all their stuff??”

“Uh huh,” Church says.

“Well, uh, there was still the knife.”

“Uh huh.” Church’s voice goes flat.

“And, um, maybe I tried a few spells.”

“...You tried a few spells. On Felix. A murderer.”

Carolina hesitates. When he says it like that, it sounds like a stupid idea. “Yeah.”

Church’s silent for a few seconds. Then he screeches, the yell so sudden and so loud that she jumps.

“ _Why_? _What spells-- why did you-- how did you think-- why_?”

“Like, an itching powder spell, and I turned his hair green and I maybe turned his hands into baby hands--”

“Oh my god,” Church groans. “He’s gonna murder you. We can’t destroy the knife, and now he’s _really_ mad. Crap. Crap. We need an adult.”

Carolina winces, but doesn’t disagree. Still, her stomach sinks at the thought of Kimball’s reaction. Kimball hates Felix so much. Carolina gets queasy at the thought of how she’ll look at Carolina when she knows it’s her fault that Felix and Locus escaped prison. “I can summon Grey and Kimball,” she offers, trying to brace herself.

Church snorts. “Not those adults, Carolina. Are you kidding? Kimball will go off and try to murder Felix, and get herself killed, and Grey might turn us all into the Council!”

“No, she wouldn’t!” Carolina protests, startled into staring at Church.

He makes a face. “Maybe, maybe not. But she's probably gonna blame me somehow. We need different adults. We--” Church groans, and for a second Carolina tenses, thinking he’s losing control of the spell. Instead he rolls his eyes and says, “Crap. We need Mr. Simmons and Grif.”

 

* * *

 

Grif is sleeping off lunch when the phone rings.

He blinks, offended at having to get up off Simmons’ lap. No one calls at this time of day. The only people who do call the apartment are telemarketers or Donut, who’s been inviting Simmons to weekly Wine and Cheese Hours, and those calls are generally in the evenings. He guesses they assume that Simmons has an actual life and isn’t home in the afternoon, studying his photocopied spellbook.

He slides off Simmons’ lap as Simmons reaches for the phone.

“Hello?”

“ _Hi, Mr. Simmons, uh--_ ”

There’s a tension in Carolina’s voice that has Grif go from half-asleep to wide awake even before something thuds loudly and violently in the background. His ears flatten against his head.

“ _\--it’s Carolina? Can you, um, and Grif come to the house? We--”_

There’s clanging and a fainter voice that sounds like Church snapping frantically, “ _Stop it! Stay in there, you stupid piece of metal! Carolina, tell them to hurry up!_ ”

“Carolina? What’s going on?” Simmons asks, frowning at the phone. “Are you okay?”

“ _Um,”_ Carolina says, in a way Grif recognizes. It’s the kind of 'um' Kai would give him right before she explained how she’d gotten picked up by mortal police or accidentally used magic and now there was a mermaid living on the beach. _“We need your advice and-- I’ll explain when you get here?”_ Carolina gives her address in a hurried rush and adds, her voice wobbling, “ _Like right away?”_

Simmons is already fumbling for his keys, a worried crease between his eyes. “That’s over by the supermarket, right? We’re about ten minutes away. Are your guardians there?” He looks like he regrets the last question the second it leaves his mouth, wincing.

“Wow, that sounded creepy,” Grif says, heading towards the door, hiding his concern with a sarcastic twitch of his whiskers.

Simmons grimaces at him as Carolina says, “ _Um, no, they’re at work and--_ ”

There’s another loud crash, and then Church yells something too garbled to make out. Something about a fox and a box? Yeah, these kids definitely did some sort of spell that’s backfiring horribly.

Simmons pulls the phone away from his ear, frowning. “Carolina? Carolina!” There’s no answer, and Simmons makes another anxious face at his phone, hanging up and racing for the door. Grif follows closely behind and scrambles into the passenger seat as Simmons slams the car door behind him and asks, “What do you think’s going on?”

“Uh, well, the first time I met these kids, they were trying to break a Council law, so...I’m guessing something dumb and dangerous,” Grif drawls. “Hopefully they didn’t try another loophole, but… Yeah, you might want to hurry.”

It’s a sign of Simmons’ worry that he actually does go a whole five miles over the speed limit, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. He bites his lip, muttering under his breath every time they hit a red light or he’s forced to pause at a stop sign. “I think this is it,” he says, pulling up in front of a large brownstone. When he opens the driver side door, they both hear faint clanging and muffled shouting. “Yeah. Uh.” He fumbles with the keys and then bolts, barely giving Grif enough time to hop out of the car before he slams the door shut and runs to the brownstone's entrance. “Carolina? Church?”

The door swings open, and a very pale Carolina stands in the doorway. She looks down at Grif. A weak smile flickers and dies on her face. Now that there’s not a telephone or a door between them, Grif thinks the clanging sound is metal hitting metal. She flinches at another thud. “Uh. So. We’re having a problem with a sealed spell--”

“That’s trying to kill her!” Church shouts, sounding annoyed and terrified all at once. “Just admit the stupid stuff you did!”

“Yeah, um,” Carolina says and steps back so Grif and Simmons can enter.

Behind her, Grif’s greeted to one of the weirdest sights he’s ever seen. There’s a floating metal box riddled with dents, kept in the air by Church’s flickering spellwork. Church’s sweating, gritting his teeth as the box wobbles.

“What _is_ that?” Simmons asks, staring. Then he seems to register what Church said. The color goes from his face. “Trying to _kill her_?”

“Um. Remember Felix’s knife?”

“What knife?” Grif asks at the same time Simmons gapes at the floating box and says, his voice going high and shrill, “ _That_ knife is trying to kill you?”

“Uh, since when does Simmons know about the knife?” Church says, blinking, and then makes a frustrated sound as the box shudders and jerks wildly in the air. Another dent, larger than the others, appears on one side.

“Uh, tell you later,” Carolina says, looking flustered.

A growl builds in Grif’s chest. He feels three steps behind in this conversation, and the shuddering box makes all of his cat instincts want to find some place quiet and and safe to hide. “What knife?”

Simmons blinks down at him. For a second his expression is blank. Then his pale face goes splotchy as he flushes. “Oh. Uh. I forgot to tell-- Felix threatened Carolina and gave her a knife. Which, uh, is now trying to kill her? So, um, let’s focus on that.”

“Right,” Grif says flatly. It's stupid to get distracted by that when Carolina's in danger. He looks up at the box, doing some hasty thinking. He prowls around Simmons' feet. “I’m assuming it’s sealed, which means we’re pretty much screwed. Two teen witches aren’t going to break a spell by someone like Felix. The dude took out a member of the Council.”

“So, what do we do?” Church asks through gritted teeth. “I can’t keep up this spell forever.” Judging by the way his arm's shaking, the kid means he can't keep the spell going for more than a couple more minutes.

Grif licks the tip of his nose. His fur bristles as he remembers the gory threats and the seething hatred in Felix’s voice as he ranted during the trial. He remembers too, in sick detail, the descriptions of Lozano and his son’s murders. If Felix wants Carolina dead, this spell will kill her.

“We have to convince him to end the spell,” he says. “Why does he want you dead now?”

“I, uh, used the knife as a focus. Did some revenge spells,” Carolina mumbles. When Grif and Simmons stare, she flushes and says, “They were skiing on Mars! Making the last few months a joke! I got mad!”

Grif doesn’t know where to start.

Simmons beats him to it. “Carolina. Didn’t you promise to keep me in the loop about Felix and Locus?”

“Yeah,” Carolina says slowly.

“ _Telling me after you do revenge spells on a murderer isn’t keeping me in the loop!”_

“Yeah, Carolina! Tell me before you do stupid stuff!” Church snarls as Carolina winces. Then he takes a deep breath and adds, his voice strained with effort, “But let’s yell at her later, save her life now. How do we get him to stop?”

“Stroke his ego,” Grif says. “Tell him that he’s won, that Carolina’s terrified and won’t do anything so stupid again.”

Carolina looks furious. “He hasn’t won! I’m not scared of him!” She flinches when the knife slams against the box. The metal groans in protest, bulging in a way that makes Grif swallow against a hiss. She glares up at the box, half-defiant, half-frightened. “Okay, maybe I’m a little scared, but I’d do it again! I’ll keep doing it! He’s--”

“ _Carolina_ ,” Church says. His shirt is drenched with sweat. The magical light pulsing around the box grows dim for a second, and then Church grits his teeth and the light brightens again. The effort makes him wobble on his feet, and Simmons steps forward, steadying him with a hand Church stares at but doesn’t shake off his shoulder. “I can’t keep doing this spell, and then the knife is gonna stab you, and you’re gonna be dead, so just-- pretend he wins, okay? Just...lie so he’ll stop. _Please_.”

Grif sees Carolina register Church’s exhaustion for the first time. The defiance leaves her expression, replaced by concern. She clenches her fists at her side, and then her shoulders slump. “Okay,” she says quietly. “I’ll pretend he wins.” She glances up at the box again. This time her forehead creases with worry. “Um. We just need to figure out how I can use the knife as a focus without getting stabbed.”

“Uh,” Church says. Panic chases the momentary relief off his face. His eyes flicker between Grif and Simmons. “Any ideas?”

Grif resists the urge to pace. He doesn’t have any suggestions, and even if he did, that’s all they would be, just suggestions. He can’t lift a finger or a paw to help these kids, his magic locked away and useless. He licks his nose again, his tail thrashing behind him. “Probably not enough just for her to touch the box, right?”

“Probably,” Church agrees.

Simmons coughs. “I have an idea, though I don’t know if it’s doable.”

“Great,” Church says flatly.

Simmons ignores the lack of enthusiasm in the kid’s voice. He fiddles with his glasses and says slowly, “The knife wants to kill Carolina. Could we maybe trick the knife into thinking it has?” He goes pink again as everyone stares. “You know, to a spell to confuse the spell? Buy us some time before Felix tries to attack again?”

“Uh,” Carolina says, blinking.

She glances down at Grif, and he realizes that even if he’s stuck in this useless body, he’s still the closest thing to an adult witch in the room, not counting Church’s potential weird memories. It’s a depressing thought. “Maybe? What kind of spell?”

“Something like…” Simmons frowns and points up at the box. “ _We won’t allow Carolina to be killed, so convince the knife her blood has been spilled. Her death is something we cannot stand, so let the knife drop softly and safely into her hand.”_

Grif’s whiskers tingle at the sudden swell of magic even before a spark of red bursts from Simmons’ fingertip and disappears through the side of the metal box. The box gives one more convulsive shake and then goes still.

There’s a moment of silence.

Then Simmons laughs, a bitten-off, incredulous sound. He stares at his hand and then the box, his expression a muddled mixture of delight and nervousness and obvious regret that he left his notebook behind at the apartment. Nervousness wins out over the rest. “Uh. That. Something like that. Exactly like that, hopefully? If it worked? _Did_ it work?”

“Only one way to find out,” Carolina says quietly.

Church scowls. “So we’re just gonna trust some mortal’s made-up spell--”

Grif jerks out of his surprise, bristling. “He saved you guys before,” he snaps, and pretends not to notice Simmons’ startled, pleased look. “But who knows how long the spell will hold, so whatever you’re gonna do, you kids need to do it now.”

Church hesitates. He looks up at the motionless box, and then at Carolina. He licks his lips. “If the knife comes at you, I’ll do the spell again,” he says, stubbornness and exhaustion coloring the promise. “Just don’t die.”

Carolina smiles weakly. “I’ll try.”

Simmons takes a step closer to Carolina, like he’s planning to put himself between her and the knife if his spell fails. Of course he would, Grif thinks, torn between affection and fear, and sets himself at their feet, as though he can do anything to stop the knife if it attacks again.

“Okay, on the count of three, I’ll drop the spell,” Church says. “One. Two. Three.” His voice cracks on the final word. It’s like sustaining the spell has been the only thing keeping him upright; he collapses in the same second the box disappears, Simmons grabbing for him too late.

The knife spins clockwise in the air for a second, and then jerks forward, a violent motion that makes Simmons throw himself forward like Grif knew he would. Grif crouches, ready to try and slap the knife out of the air and probably get his paws cut off for his trouble, before the knife’s downward dive stops in mid-air.

Grif watches, ears flat against his head, still ready to leap, as the knife makes a sharp, stabbing motion a foot away from Carolina. He remembers the wording of Simmons’ spell. It’s acting out killing her, he thinks, and feels queasy at the thought. He feels even queasier when the knife acts out a few more vicious stabs, so many that he loses count before it stops.

There’s a brief pause. This time, when the knife moves, it’s a controlled descent, its hilt falling gently into Carolina’s outstretched hand.

She blinks down at it, and then tightens her grip. She spares one worried glance at Church, who Simmons is helping get off the floor and onto the couch while the kid gasps like he’s run a marathon, before she raises her other hand. Her fingers twist into a weird shape. She squints, her expression going both focused and distracted, and as she mutters, “Let’s send Felix a message,” and her hand begins to move, Grif realizes that she’s writing on thin air.

 

* * *

 

It’s an exercise in frustration trying to reason with Felix. Locus knows that, but he’s annoyed enough to argue with him anyway. “I’m telling you that was _stupid_ ,” he says tersely. They’re in their third hotel room of the week, with newly established wards. The effort of the extra spellwork is giving him a headache. “Murdering a _child_ is exactly the kind of splashy magic that’s going to bring the Council right to us.”

Felix rolls his eyes. “Will you let it go? She deserved it, and besides, it’s too late now.”

Locus frowns at the satisfaction in Felix’s voice. He understands being pleased about Ruben and Gabriel Lozano. Both men had deserved everything Felix and Locus had done to them. But the girl wasn’t-- hadn’t even old enough to have her license. She’d only been a threat because of Felix’s sloppiness, and now she was an unnecessary casualty.

“So let’s get back to the plan. Sure, we’re gonna lay low for a bit, but then I was thinking--”

Locus glances over when Felix stops. He’s not sure what emotion fills him at the sight of Felix’s hand jerking wildly around, Felix’s other hand gripping his wrist like he’s fighting himself. The tip of Felix’s pointing finger glows a faint blue.

“That little witch,” Felix snarls as his finger begins to create faint glowing words.

“You keep underestimating her,” Locus says mildly, reading the message as Felix’s hand sloppily writes it into the air between them.

_Call off the knife._

Felix sneers. The spell must expect a response, because he writes, _Why should I?_ Into the air. The letters glow and then fade, replaced by the girl’s response.

_Because this isn’t lying low. You should listen to Locus._

Locus’s skin itches at the feeling of unseen eyes on him, even though he knows the girl is probably struggling just to keep this complicated spell going. He spares a second to be darkly amused that a teenage witch who has so little common sense that she tried to fight _Felix_ is telling Felix to listen to him. Then he says, “We should get the knife back.”

Felix growls, “What, like I’m _scared_ of her?”

Locus almost growls back. “No, because it gives her or whoever she gives the knife to a focus.”

Felix smirks unexpectedly, his anger shifting to self-satisfied amusement. “Oh, she can’t give the knife to anyone. I added a proximity part to the spell.” As Locus absorbs that fact, Felix writes, _And this isn’t following my advice._

There’s a pause, and then the girl’s answer comes slowly, the writing getting shakier as it goes until Locus has to squint to decipher the last few words.

_So I let you go on your merry way and you call off the knife and go back to your plan. Okay?_

_Next time I won’t be so nice_ , Felix warns.

The floating words vanish. A second later, the blue glow on Felix’s finger goes out like a snuffed candle. Felix clenches his hand into a fist and then unclenches it. With a flicker of his fingers, he dismisses his spell and turns to Locus.

“Clever kid,” he says. It’s not a compliment.

 

* * *

 

 _Next time I won’t be so nice_.

Carolina drops the spell with relief and collapses onto the couch next to Church. She feels shaky, her head pounding. Her vision swims a little, though it doesn’t blur so badly that she can’t see the knife drop to the floor. She probably looks as bad as Church does, his face wan and exhausted. It’s hard to tell what part of her misery is from the crashing adrenaline rush or the effects of working complicated magic or maybe just the magical equivalent of shock.

“Carolina?” Simmons sounds worried.

She opens her eyes, wondering when she closed them, to find Simmons peering anxiously at her and Church. “I’m okay,” she says, hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “Just tired.”

“They need food and water and a lot of sleep,” Grif says. He’s been prowling underfoot pretty much since he arrived, his tail puffed up to twice its size. Now he stops, half-curled around Simmons’ legs.

“No food,” Church says, and Carolina turns to frown at him. He looks slightly green.

“Water and sleep then,” Grif says.

“Right, the kitchen--”

Carolina points, and Simmons steps carefully over Grif.

“So,” Grif says, as soon as the door shuts behind Simmons. His two-colored eyes stare at Carolina. “That was _really_ dumb. Didn’t your parents tell you not to piss off murderers?”

Carolina’s too drained to muster more than a halfhearted scowl at him. Still, defensive embarrassment makes her stomach clench. She licks her lips. “He’s a criminal. He shouldn’t be skiing on Mars like--”

Grif cuts her off with a shake of his head and a frustrated growl. “Look, I don’t like Felix running around free either, but you have to let the Council clean up their own mess.” Carolina tries to sit up at that, and he actually reaches up and puts a paw on her knee. “No, listen. A kid’s haywire spell shouldn’t let two people escape off _Pluto_. A bunch of people screwed up, not just you. It’s the Council’s problem. And if you mess with Felix again, he’ll kill you.” He pauses. He removes his paw and starts cleaning it, his tail thrashing. “Probably go after the nerds too, just for good measure.”

Church frowns weakly. “I’m not a nerd.”

“You wear glasses. You’re a nerd.”

Church starts to fiddle with his glasses and then glares. “What about you?”

“One upside to being a familiar. Nine lives,” Grif says flatly. He doesn’t sound enthusiastic about it.

The door opens and Simmons comes back in with three glasses of water.

As tired as she is, Carolina still notices the way Grif’s body language changes. He sits down, his tail tucked under him. He says, looking up at Simmons, “Case in point, an absolute nerd. I can't believe you came up with a spell so fast.”

Simmons looks like he wants to smile for a second before he looks towards Carolina and frowns. He hands her and Church their water, condensation beading the glass, and says seriously, “Carolina, you can’t do that again. Felix is dangerous--”

“I know!” Carolina says. She can hear the defensiveness in her voice. She scowls down at her drink. She forces herself to take a sip, and then drinks half the glass, not realizing how thirsty she is until that first swallow. Aware that Simmons is still looking at her, she adds, “I just-- I’ll leave him alone, unless--”

“Unless?”

“Unless he hurts someone!”

“That’s not your responsibility,” Simmons says, but he doesn’t sound angry, just concerned.

Carolina doesn’t argue. She finishes the rest of her water and then looks away. She spots the hole the knife made in the wall when it swung at her neck on the stairs. Her stomach sinks. “Right. Um. I need to fix the door and the wall before Kimball and Grey get back.” She feels exhausted just thinking about doing more magic. Judging by Church's grimace, he feels the same way.

She’s caught off guard by the way Simmons actually brightens.

Grif sighs. “You want to try another spell, don’t you? Nerd.”

“I’ve never successfully cast two spells in the same day. I want to _try_ , especially when I only have a small headache from the first one!” Simmons says. Before anyone can react to that, he squints up towards the hole and says, “ _So no one will be distressed, clean up this entire magical mess_.”

“I hate this so much,” Church says flatly as a red glow swirls around the damage. The scattered feathers disappear back into the cushion and then the couch cushion floats over to nudge at Carolina until she shifts and lets it resettle into its usual spot. He watches this all grimly and adds, “Kimball gets off work in like thirty minutes.”

Simmons’ pleased smile freezes on his face. “Uh.”

“And that’s our cue,” Grif deadpans. He adds, with the same sarcastic emphasis as Church’s reminder about Kimball, “You’re welcome for the help, by the way. Now keep out of trouble.” When he heads towards the front door, he gives the knife a wide berth.

Simmons pauses, giving Carolina and Church one more concerned look. “Are you guys going to be okay? I could, uh, make some quick sandwiches or something--”

“Simmons, you’re their ex-teacher, not their nanny. Come on.”

“We’ll be okay,” Carolina says. She bites her lip. “Um. Thanks.”

There’s still a tinge of worry in Simmons’ smile, but he leaves when Grif calls his name.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, Church laughs. There’s a tinge of hysteria to the sound, and he flops back against the couch, staring at the ceiling and mumbling, “Well, that’s...interesting....”

Carolina frowns at him. “What?”

“You noticed the color of the magic, right? Maroon?”

“Yeah?” Carolina says slowly.

“No one in the house has maroon magic.” Carolina must look confused, because Church shakes his head. He stops the motion almost immediately, looking a little queasy, and says, “His spells. They were maroon. Whatever he’s doing, it’s him doing it.”

Carolina says almost says she knew that already. How else would Mr. Simmons do magic? But then she decides not to remind Church that she was talking about Felix’s knife to Simmons behind Church’s back. “Weird,” she says instead.

“Yeah,” Church says, huffing out another strangled laugh. “Weird.” He turns his head a little. His eyes narrow. He's too tired to screech, but his hoarse voice is thick with disbelief as he snaps, “ _You turned Felix’s hair green_?! He’s _killed_ people, Carolina, and you thought, hey, let’s play some _pranks_ on him?”

Carolina opens her mouth to defend herself. Exhaustion hits her, not like a wave, but more like a brick. She half-closes her eyes, but that just makes her more tired. When she does manage to speak, what comes out is a low, “Can you yell at me later?”

“Really wanna yell at you now,” Church mutters, but then he yawns. “Fine. I’ll yell at you tonight.” Through half-closed eyes, she watches him fight and lose to a second yawn. “...Or tomorrow.” He’s still sweaty from the box spell, but she doesn’t move when he leans against her. “Better hide the knife,” he mumbles, and then his head tips back and he’s asleep.

With a weary gesture of her index finger, Carolina sends the knife sliding under the couch.

She tries to take Church’s glasses off, but just succeeds in poking him in the cheek and earning a half-asleep protest. “Sorry,” she mutters. She’s asleep before her hand drops.

 

* * *

 

Felix flicks his hand like he’s opening an invisible switchblade.

The wallpaper around them shifts, the faded, grimy paint swirling and reforming into an enormous map whose ink gleams in the lamplight as it dries. Locus only recognizes the place by the _Westbridge, population 20,000_ text, positioned right by the door. He sighs. “Felix. I thought we were going back to the plan. Terrorizing some teenage witch isn’t the next step.”

“Oh, but it _could_ be,” Felix says with a nasty little smile. “Control told us to put some fear into witches, right?” He taps a finger against the high school. When he lifts his hand, a large black pin marks the spot. “Westbridge feels like the _perfect_ place to stir up trouble.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Honorable Mention**
> 
> 2x18 - Grunge Rock Dreams Come True - Sabrina gets guest stars like the Backstreet Boys, and Carolina: The Teenage Witch gets grunge bands. It’s amazing. While Tucker, Church, and Caboose see Everclear, Niner, Carolina, and Connie hang out. It’s a fun, low stakes episode, and exactly what we needed after the prank war, despite the partial cliffhanger. Best part of the episode, though, is the reveal at the end that Caboose was wearing ear plugs the entire time because he doesn't like grunge but wanted to hang out with Church. _CABOOSE._


End file.
